


a lovestory

by Hanavia



Category: Original Work
Genre: Dissociative Identity Disorder, Family Bonding, Gen, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:28:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27545359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hanavia/pseuds/Hanavia
Summary: She doesn't want me to get so engrossed in the feelings that I cry. Although crying is not wrong. She doesn't want me to feel this emptiness inside me.I should have known better than to indulge these feelings. You simply do not fall in love with friends. It never works.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	a lovestory

"Get up!" she says. She doesn't mean it as harshly as it may sound. She only wants the best for me. And the best thing for me right now is just to get up and do something instead of staring at the screen all the time.  
  
She doesn't want me to get so engrossed in the feelings that I cry. Although crying is not wrong. She doesn't want me to feel this emptiness inside me.  
  
I should have known better than to indulge these feelings. You simply do not fall in love with friends. It never works.  
  
His words still weigh heavily on my heart.  
  
Nervous, I almost sat on the edge of my chair when he said he wanted to talk to me. Fearing the worst, but still this little bit of hope in me. Gnawing. Heart pounding. Then the words. "I don't want to lose you as a friend." And suddenly it felt like my stomach was racing to the floor. Like on a roller coaster, hanging vertically in midair just before the loop.  
  
Even now my body lets me feel that feeling again. Nausea is spreading inside me. I struggle with the tears.  
  
"Get up, dear," she says again. "You must do something for me. Just a little favour, okay?" Her words are softer than before. Than usual. Even they treat me with love like a raw egg.  
  
They feel what's going on deep down inside of me. Why this is all so incredibly hard for me.  
  
"This is hopeless," he finally says. "She will sit there staring at the chat all day long. Girl, I'm sorry for you, but..."  
  
His words blur, somehow disappearing as background noise. I know, whatever he wants to say is well meant. You all have a hard time with me. I am sensitive, I weigh every word on a gold scale and squirm in my misery. All too gladly I play the victim.  
  
Is that what I am in this situation?  
  
Who knows.  
  
A few weeks ago these feelings weren't there. Displaced in the deepest corner of my heart. Since I met him, I have always been the one who didn't want to endanger our friendship. But then out of impulse we met. And I swear my heart stopped for a moment.  
  
That smile, those eyes.  
  
"Now she is doing it again", I hear E sighing. She flicks her fingers in my face. Not even a twitch. Somehow I am far away right now. My body feels almost numb after this free fall.  
  
"I told you this wouldn't have a happy ending, but at least she has certainty now. Certitude is good. We've all been in love before and had to get over it. You're strong enough for it, Angel."  
  
Strength means nothing right now. I don't feel strong. I don't feel weak either. Just... lost. Everything and nothing makes sense right now. Alternating, like ping-pong. And these two don't make it any better. Like a cheap and much worse version of Jiminy Cricket.  
  
"I think we should take over now. I'm fed up," says A. This time I can feel his frustration vibrating in my body. First, a hand is raised, I let it go, stare at it. Watch the chipped red nail polish. Then it clenches into a fist. Slowly I feel him put it down on the table. But I also feel that he would like to beat around on the table. But it is two o'clock at night and even this stubborn man knows better.  
  
"I don't even love him", I say after a long silence in which I only feel the trembling in my fist. No one says a word, it is simply an all filling silence. Not even unpleasant. Just there.  
  
"And yet it tears you apart," says E.  
  
"It is rejection," A finally says. "Isn't it?"  
  
I don't answer, but I don't need to. At that moment, I know they feel exactly the same as I do. There is this detached valve that lets all the feelings flow back to them. It shoots out as if someone had been standing on a garden hose and was collecting water.  
  
Even E and A are overwhelmed by this sheer flood. I feel that it makes them uncomfortable. "I saw it as a chance to let someone get close to me again."  
  
They literally threaten to drown in grief. They grab every blade of grass they can to keep their heads above water. Japs, gasping for air.  
  
And even though I enjoy the sight after all the words said, I kneel down and offer them my hand. When it comes to them, I am as strong as an ox. I can rescue both of them from the flood at once.  
  
I am the host here. I am the caretaker. This is my family and they did what I would have done. The unutterable attempt to cheer them up.  
  
But sometimes feelings just have to be felt.  
  
Grief over a missed opportunity.  
Disappointment because their own plans failed.  
Anger, at him.  
  
And between all these negative feelings a single ray of light threatens to pass through to me. When I lift my gaze towards the sky, I can see that the sun is struggling through the clouds.  
  
"Thanks", I say after a while, still holding their hands.  
  
Silence still lies over us. They are affected, I can feel it. I just wanted to let them participate in it, hoping that they would have a solution to all this. But maybe this is the solution. The three of us, silently staring at the sky, overwhelmed by the feelings that have been piled up for so, so long.  
  
We too seldom share these feelings with each other and this leads to misunderstandings. Perhaps I will draw this lesson from the whole thing. Instead of getting upset about missed opportunities and a man who sees my value only as a friend, I have opened up to my family.  
  
To the two who were so hostile to me months ago.  
  
Maybe this is just a slightly different love story. One in which I learn to love myself. And every single part of me.  
  
  



End file.
